It’s only me, you and Joey, Troy
by JoeyDoris
Summary: 7 Words that he thought would never be altered, never change. Troyella. Rated T because of talking about death.


You know what they say, you don't know what you've got until it's gone. Another less common one is, you don't know what your missing until it arrives. Looking round the room seeing faces I knew and faces I didn't just makes it that little bit worse _they_ weren't the ones madly in love with her, _they_ weren't the ones who had shared their first kiss with her, _they_ weren't the ones who knew how when she's nervous she would grind her teeth together or the fact that she hated chocolate but could eat endless tubs of chocolate spread. I bet _they_ didn't know her favourite kind of sandwich was PB&J but only if it was my special recipe. _I_ was. I could feel the tears building up behind my eyelids and walked aimlessly out the room, hoping not the draw attention to myself, I didn't need everyone asking if I was 'okay,' I mean, it's pretty obvious I'm not. Pulling my sleeves over my hands, I wiped the tears from my cheeks, hastily unlocking the childproof gate from the stairs and running up them, two at a time. I found myself at the door third on your left if you went up the Montez household's second flight of stairs. A purple butterfly plague that read 'Gabi's room, enter at your own risk.' Was placed slap bang in the middle of the wood. I knocked, a habit of mines. I knew her rule about knocking and it just came naturally to me, the amount of times I'd done it without thinking before, to me, this time felt no different. Apart from it_ was_ different. When I didn't get an answer, I slowly turned the door handle and lift-pushed the door open. I remember the day she'd told me that it was an art-form – opening her bedroom door. The amount of purple on her room always took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to. I stood in her doorway, still holding onto the doorhandle and studied her room. So many memories were made here. Her broken computer chair which I'd thought it'd be fun to have us both sit on and spin until eventually she'd thrown up, barely missing my shoes. Her bed, we're we'd spent countless nights just snuggled up watching movies. I remember the night she 'Note booked' me. I have to admit, I cried a little. The balcony I'd many-a-times climbed and the place I'd given her the promise ring she always wore on her index finger – I'd never been good with sizes. A hop, skip and a jump took me to her bed. Purple butterflies were stitched all over the white material. I sat down, gently tracing the pattern of the smallest butterfly, he was her favourite. She had named his piglet, I remember asking her why and her reply had been simple; 'I don't know the word for a baby butterfly and you know what my favourite animal of all time is right?' I remember laughing at her and her getting annoyed at me. Those kinds of 'fights' are the things I wish I could've changed about our relationship. I liked to have a laugh but Gabi, well; she wasn't so willing to make fun of herself. I lay my head on her pillow, breathing in her scent, turning on my right shoulder; I saw her small collection of photo frames on her bedside cabinet. The one that caught my eye was the one that contained me and her in it, the frame was a creamy white and it had blue polka dots all over it. She had asked me if I thought blue or pink, of course my natural male instinct was to pick blue. The photo inside it I remember being taken as if it was yesterday. We were going to her aunties wedding. I was wearing a black suit with a blue tie and she was wearing a white dress with a matching blue bow. The look on my face is pretty priceless, basically; I look like I'm about to poop my pants. Gabi has a huge smile on her face; she was totally excited to introduce me to her family. I remember being so nervous about it, other that her mom and her little brother Jackson, I hadn't met anyone from her family. She had reassured me that they were all wonderful but that didn't stop my anxieties. Of course they were lovely people and we all got on like a house on fire. The next frame, silver and square in shape held a picture of her late-puppy, Leo. I remember when she'd first got it but not as vividly as I remember the day it had gotten run over by a car and killed on the spot, she'd cried in my arms for three hours straight before falling asleep.

The third and final frame held a picture of her as a young girl with her mom and dad. One of the worst days of the year for both me and Gabi was the anniversary of her dad's death. She'd always been a daddy's girl and of course it was my job to make sure she was okay, not that I didn't want to. I felt myself welling up again at this point, I hope you don't blame me but remembering good times are always just that little bit more heartbreaking that remembering the bad times, know what I mean? Every time I remembered one, another part of my heart died, not a lot of it remained after she passed away though. Just a small fraction, maybe 1/16 if you're lucky.

Her mum often went on business trips so it was just me and her but you could never forget Joey. When she was little, she wasn't aloud a pet so she had a soft toy kitten called Joey. Before she went to sleep she'd always whisper "It's only me, you and Joey, Troy." Above her bed was a big, red, white and gold banner which read 'Go Wildcats!' she'd take it down for every East High game that got played and would wave it around like a maniac. She was my biggest fan and had full custody of my red warm up hoody with my name and number on the back. I wonder if she'll remember stuff when she's up there, I glance at the white ceiling, expected to see an angel floating about on a cloud, no such luck, only a topless Justin Timberlake poster. Every since he'd laid eyes on that poster he'd instantly hated the 'JT' that Gabi seemed to overly discuss with Sharpay not as much as he hated Hannah Montana, she'd prance around the school corridors singing along to songs which were catchy and she'd constantly be playing her songs when I was over at her house.. Incase you don't go to High School, basketball players randomly singing and humming 'I've got the best of both worlds..' and 'Well I really am a rock star!' in the middle of practice isn't exactly a good thing. Too many good times floated around my head that it got too much. I had to get out of there, running out, only to pick up a final reminder of her; a toy kitten that always lay on her pillow. Hugging it to my chest seven words, which seemed familiar, slipped from my mouth. "It's just me and you now, Joey."


End file.
